


life without hope (is not much of a life)

by kylorenhasan8pack



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Empathy, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Prisoner of War, Sort Of, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylorenhasan8pack/pseuds/kylorenhasan8pack
Summary: Rey brings dinner to the Resistance's most recent and only prisoner of war - Armitage Hux. Reyux. Requested by anons on tumblr.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	life without hope (is not much of a life)

Rey’s hands don’t tremble as she grips the container of rations firmly between her hands, but uncomfortable flutters make her feel less stoic than she looks. He deserves to be here. He deserves far more than what he’s getting actually, of this she is quite sure, yet this is easily the least favorite part of her day. It gives her this squirmy, uncomfortable feeling in her belly, being here. The few dank cells where the Resistance keeps the rare prisoner are cold and feel so different than the warmth that she experienced minutes earlier at the dinner table with Poe and Finn. It’s like a different world here in the dark and he _deserves to be here_. That doesn’t mean she has to enjoy it.

Wordlessly, she slides open a small panel on the translucent door that keeps the prisoner well in view. She pushes a container of food into it, waiting for the panel to hiss and lock back into place. She’s just about to turn to leave, eager to shake off the chills this place gives her, when she’s interrupted.

“If it’s the same pitiful excuse for a meal that it was yesterday, you may as well keep it.” A weak, bored sounding voice echoes from the far end of the chamber.

A haggard looking Hux sits in the corner of his cell, even paler than he was the day they captured him. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but his beard and even his hair have begun to grow noticeably. Probably only because he’s the type to keep it trimmed perfectly within regulation. Any difference is a big difference.

“Well, it’s all that you’re getting, so if I were you, I’d eat it.”

The entitlement in his voice strikes a nerve in her. He’s a _prisoner_. Would he prefer alternative options? They’ve certainly been discussed by General Organa and the few Resistance leaders left. He’s fortunate to be alive.

“Countless people on any number of planets are starving. You’re lucky you’re getting anything at all,” she goes on, her tone clipped and cold. 

She's quite ready to leave now, to flee the darkness emanating off of this man. But no, it’s not darkness she feels, not _just_ darkness anyway. That much, she had sensed the day he arrived. It’s another emotion she feels penetrating her whenever she walks down to this cell block. It's the reason she's come to dislike coming down here when it's her turn to do so. She can feel it seep into her soul, the same way that she can sense fear or joy in her friends. It’s not just evil she feels from this General who has caused so much harm. It’s _hopelessness_. She realizes it with a start and immediately, she understands. She’s never been able to abide the feeling. Life without hope, well, it’s not much of a life, is it?

Again, Rey turns to leave.

Again, she’s interrupted.

“What’s taking so long?”

“I’ve _just_ put it in. Your food is right th-”

“I’m not talking about the damned _food_ ,” he sneers. “Is the Resistance honestly so ill functioning that it can’t execute its prisoners in a timely manner?”

“Execute?” Rey tips her head to the side, eyes widening slightly. What had he heard? Or maybe he’s heard nothing and that’s just how _they_ work. “Why would you-”

“It’s hardly surprising,” he goes on without giving the food a glance.

Rey doesn’t blame him for that this time. It’s not particularly _good_ food, but none of their food is at the moment. The First Order is squarely to blame for their lack in numbers and resources, as far as she’s concerned, so she can’t find it in her heart to feel sorry about it if he doesn’t like what he’s given. She can think of more days than not that she's eaten out of pure necessity with no pleasure involved in the process. He can do the same. Or is that only what people with hope do? The bad feeling sits heavily in her gut, no matter how much she tells herself that she shouldn't care how he feels after Hosnian Prime, after what he's been a part of, after _everything_. The longer she spends down here, the more she senses. 

“I imagine that’s more of an issue of _backbone_ than actual functional concerns. It’s a simple enough task,” he continues, as if genuinely mulling it over.

“We managed to capture you,” she retorts. Their eyes meet then, and he actually looks slightly taken aback by that. It's as if he had somehow forgotten the vital fact that any fraction of pride that he had left in him and his position is now misplaced. “I could take two steps out of this cell block and see more than a dozen people who would literally pay to be the one to end your life. You’re worth more alive than dead, at least at the moment. Backbone isn’t the problem.”

Rey turns on her heel for a third time, when a long sigh escapes the prisoner.

“Then just tell me. What’s going to happen to me?”

"Oh? Is being a prisoner of war too boring for you?" 

"Yes." 

Rey pauses. “…I don’t know.”

“Well, lie to me then.”

Her hesitance is rewarded by another dramatic sigh and roll of his eyes, and another tug in her gut. It’s that awful feeling again. Why won't it leave her? His hopelessness and apathy aren't her fault, but it’s so strong it chokes her. All at once, she finds herself talking without recognizing the words coming out of her mouth. 

“Fine then. You’ll turn to our side.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll _what_?” He nearly laughs, incredulity dripping from his tone.

“You’ll stay here as long it takes. You’ll realize that the First Order is evil and you’ll tell us everything you know and then you’ll be one of us. You’ll live here, safe, happy…it will probably be the same food for a while though.”

Hux stares at her for a long moment, then he does laugh, a short, sharp sound that sounds unnatural falling from his lips, but it's a little bit of a laugh nonetheless. Shaking his head, he leans forward and takes the container of food, inching it closer by his fingertips. His expression still tells her that he’s unconvinced, but that isn't what matters. The bad feeling in her gut has lessened ever so slightly as she watches him start to pick at the food.

“I might prefer execution.” A sarcastic smirk still tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Don't worry. I’m sure that’s still an option,” she replies, her voice softer this time. “...I’ll see you tomorrow, Hux.” 


End file.
